


Maybe One Day, Just Not Today

by A_Pinch_Of_Sage



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Ghostbur can be helpful!, Just Post-Exile Problems, Late night therapy session with your dead brother, Oh look it’s trauma, References to Depression, now we don’t have time to unpack all of that, sometimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28378836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Pinch_Of_Sage/pseuds/A_Pinch_Of_Sage
Summary: “And with everything going on right now, he couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself. Which was why he opened his mouth before he had the chance to stop himself.“Does it ever stop hurting?”Ghostbur hummed in acknowledgment but said nothing. He kept his eyes closed, lips pressed into a fine line.”
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Maybe One Day, Just Not Today

**Author's Note:**

> More angst, what a surprise. This is purely a self-indulgence fic that no one asked me to write.
> 
> I had this ready to go in my drafts, and Im randomly posting this at midnight

Two weeks. 

It’s been two weeks since President Tubbo exiled Tommy from L’Manberg as per Dream’s request—which was more of a threatening demand than a request but technicalities. 

Actually, it’s been two weeks, five days, and seven hours since his banishment but who was counting? Certainly not Tommy. 

But don’t get him wrong, he was still upset about it. He was fucking livid. Like ‘ready to burn an entire forest down’ mad, but he didn’t want to lash out and let his emotions consume him. After all, his best friend only kicked him out of the country they fought for together and left him to fend for himself in the wilderness. 

No biggie. Shit happens! 

Right? Right. 

Ever since that day where he was escorted out by Dream, Tommy spent his days living in Logsted (Logsted _Shire_ , Ghostbur had added enthusiastically). It was a tiny community that consisted of a sole cobblestone house surrounded by a protective wall of oak logs and stripped wood. A few barrels, chests, and flowers to liven the place up a bit but nothing too extravagant. 

And it was close enough to the ocean that Tommy was able to spend his days down at the beach with his toes in the sand and salty wind blowing through his hair. All around them, the land stretched out into a field of flowers and trees. It was secluded. It was peaceful. It was…lonely. 

Logsted Shire. 

Population: himself and occasionally Ghostbur. 

I mean, the Brit built the damn place so you’d expect him to stick around more. Besides his brother, no one ever came to visit Tommy since his exile. Not often anyway. Sometimes, Ranboo, Bad, and a few others would sneak out to visit him when they could but that was still not enough for him. 

Tommy was spiraling out of control, succumbing to a depression so dark and inescapable that he’s not sure if he’ll ever see the light again. 

Being isolated in the middle of nowhere with no one to talk to didn’t help his mental health either. 

Well, he wasn’t completely alone. There was one person who showed up frequently enough. Dream.

The masked man was the only person who made an effort to see him every other day, if not everyday. It was weird to think that the man who demanded that he be exiled and helped escort him out of his home country was making an effort to see him. But hey, beggars can’t be choosers. 

Seeing anyone was better than being alone. Alone with his thoughts. They only got worse and worse as time went on, so having someone to talk to was like a breath of fresh air. Even if it was someone as manipulative as Dream. 

Besides that, the only other person who has been by Tommy’s side throughout this entire ordeal wasn't even alive. Ghostbur, his dead older brother who had no recollection of his past life, has shown up to provide him company every once and awhile. They would usually work on expanding Logsted Shire, crack stupid jokes, and hunt or mine if they had the time. That was the norm for them. Typical brotherly shenanigans. 

They were close enough to have inside jokes that left them laughing like hyenas till their sides hurt and ribs ached, but they were also close enough to have serious, thought-provoking conversations in the dead of night. Those were special occasions though, as per Ghostbur’s request.

Normally, he was uncomfortable talking about Alivebur’s horrifying actions but if Tommy needed to vent about the struggles of everyday life since that fateful day two weeks ago—two weeks, five days, and seven hours, Tommy’s brain corrected unhelpfully—then Ghostbur was there for him. 

Sometimes they wouldn’t talk at all. Whether they had nothing to say or they did not want to talk, the brothers would work in silence. The sounds of crashing waves and the rustling leaves filled the void. 

Right now, they were having one of those quiet moments. 

Tommy and Ghostbur were sitting on a fallen oak tree log and staring out at the ocean. No building or mining, just enjoying each other’s presence. Sometimes they didn’t need to talk, they just needed to know the other was there. A soothing, solid presence in an ever-changing world. 

Earlier, the brothers had been roaming around the forest in search of a wolf for Tommy. Ghostbur had insisted in finding a companion for the younger boy since he couldn’t always be there with him. Besides, Ghostbur already had Friend, his loyal blue sheep, so Tommy needed a friend of his own. But to no such luck. They gave up after twenty minutes and decided to explore the nearby landscape while the sun was still up. 

After a while, they had stumbled upon a clearing with a bunch of tree stumps and fallen logs that overlooked the ocean and agreed to take a much-deserved break. 

Well, Tommy complained about how much his legs felt like they were gonna fall off from all the walking and shut up, Ghostbur, your feet aren’t even touching the fucking floor! So now they sat in blissful silence, squeezed together on a log with their shoulders touching. 

Tommy could feel the splinters poking holes into his trousers and the palms of his hands. The slight sting felt good though, it was a reminder that he was alive. He was alive, and he was breathing. 

His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, in tune with the gentle waves of the sea beneath them. Tommy’s foot tap, tap, tapped against the dirt, staining the toes of his white sneakers. It was a nervous habit he developed as a child and never grew out of. Too much energy for one person to handle. 

His hands curled and uncurled, grasping the edge of the splintered oak log beneath them. His fingers caressed the cracks and dents, admiring every tiny detail. 

Beside him, Ghostbur sat cross-legged, long limbs tucked underneath one another like an awkward human (ghost?) pretzel. His hands rested in his lap, and his eyes were closed, not minding Tommy’s nervous behavior. He never minded, having understood the younger boy for sixteen years now. 

He looked completely at peace, his expression molded into a blank mask. Then again, that could be a façade. 

If there was one thing Wilbur was good at, it was hiding his emotions from others. Ever since he was a kid, Wilbur hid away his true feelings from others out of fear of being ridiculed or shunned. Phil since reassured the curly-haired boy that it is okay to feel things, whether it was negative or positive. 

Still, Tommy grew up seeing Wilbur with all his fake, plastic smiles and forced laughs. Too polite to lash out at others until he was pushed over the edge. He lived for the dramatics, after all, and wouldn’t turn down a chance in the spotlight. 

On the surface, he was the kind of person that most people envied—pretty, talented, funny, and likable. He had a lot of things going for him, so surely he must’ve been living the dream. 

It was all a lie.

A big, fat, disgusting lie. 

Wilbur lied since the day he was born up until the day he died. 

Then there was Tommy, who was the complete opposite. He wore his heart on his sleeve, unable to keep his emotions at bay. With his mind running a mile a minute, it was impossible for him to sit still like Ghostbur was now. He had too many thoughts and what-if scenarios scurrying and clawing at his brain like starving rats searching for food. 

Two weeks. Five days. Seven hours. 

And with everything going on right now, he couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself. Which was why he opened his mouth before he had the chance to stop himself. 

“Does it ever stop hurting?”

Ghostbur hummed in acknowledgment but said nothing. He kept his eyes closed, lips pressed into a fine line. 

The question lingered in the air between them. It was a rhetorical question. A question that required no answer to, especially not from someone as emotionally closed off as Ghostbur. It was a loaded question that to most, seemed simple enough to answer but Wilbur knew what he was referring to. It was impossible to miss something that was blinding you. 

The silence dragged on for what felt like hours, and Tommy regretted asking in the first place. He should’ve kept his mouth shut. This wasn't the first time he talked himself into trouble. 

Another minute passed, and Tommy was getting nervous now. At one point, he considered switching topics or heading back to camp for the night but Ghostbur interrupted him, 

“No, it doesn’t.” 

Tommy flinched as if he got slapped in the face. 

In all honesty, he would’ve preferred the sting of a slap than whatever the hell he’s feeling right now. He really wasn’t expecting an answer. Glancing over at his brother, the blond noted that the older boy’s eyes were still closed, lips pulled down into a small frown. 

“No?” Tommy parroted back, eyebrows raised. 

Ghostbur tilted his head away so Tommy couldn’t see his expression. The brunet exhaled, his shoulders drawn up to his ears. His pale hands clenched into fists in his lap. 

“No,” Ghostbur repeated after a moment, softer this time. “No, you just make room for it.” 

He refused to look in Tommy’s direction, not sparing him a single glance. Must’ve struck a nerve then. That was another thing Tommy was good at—pushing people’s buttons, even if they weren’t meant to be pushed. 

Tommy licked his lips, contemplating. 

The skin was chapped from the colder weather. On the horizon, the sun was starting to set. Vibrant hues of orange, pink, and yellow stretched across the sky like an abstract painting. The colors reflected in the ocean waves. 

“But how can you make room when there’s no space left?” Tommy asked quietly. He blinked back the unshed tears that started to build up. Tears of frustration, anger, and sadness. Too many emotions he kept bottled up for so long. The blond didn’t even notice that he started crying. His eyes stung and his chest hurt. Everything hurt. He could feel an oncoming migraine.

Ghostbur chuckled sadly and lifted his head to face the other. For the first time ever, his eyes weren’t distant. They were sad and grey but full of recognition. It was equally comforting as it was heartbreaking. 

“You just do,” he mumbled and rested a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. 

“Yeah,” Tommy exhaled shakily. “Yeah, I guess I’ll figure it out.” 

The brothers sat there for a while, long enough to watch the sun go down. They didn’t speak a word and sometimes, that was okay. They’ll be okay. Maybe one day, just not today. 

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing like a late night therapy session with the ghost of your deceased older brother to keep you mentally stable.
> 
> If you want me to write a specific character lmk in the comments! 
> 
> Feedback is appreciated :)


End file.
